The waves were barely touching the shore, soft and slow. You both sat on the railing, shoes off, letting the sand cling to your feet. Mikey's hair was messy from the wind, eyes reflecting the first hint of sunrise. "This place is quiet," you said.

He hummed in agreement, hands resting behind him. Then, after a pause, "Next summer.. we'll come back. Just us." You smiled, not daring to ask if he believed it. He looked at you then - really looked - and said quietly, "Promise me you'll still be here when that happens."